On Letting Go
by Mickey3
Summary: Janet turned to look at the face belonging to the unfamiliar voice, and had to look down to see it. She didn’t need to have ever met him or seen a picture to know who he was.


**On Letting Go  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 2/28/07

SEASON: 7

SPOILERS: Heroes Pt 2

WORD COUNT: 1619

AUTHORS NOTE: The title of this fic comes from an X-Men fic I read a long time ago. It also deals with the death of a loved one, but the similarity ends there. Many thanks as always, to my wonderful beta reader, Cokie!!

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Janet Frasier slowly drifted back to consciousness. "Damn Jaffa." She muttered. She really thought she should feel at least some pain. After all she had taken a direct hit from a staff weapon. They must have me pumped full of some pretty damn good drugs. But then, she didn't remember them having anything _that_ strong. Without opening her eyes she slid her hand across her stomach to her chest where she knew the wound would be. Her eyes flew open and she came to full wakefulness. She stared in shock at her unblemished BDU jacket. She quickly unzipped it and pulled up her t-shirt. 

Not a mark. No burns. Not so much as a scorch mark on her. What the hell is going on here?

Slowly, she became aware of the sounds around her. The infirmary was a flurry of activity. White coat clad men and women scurried frantically around.

"Damn it!" She turned towards the familiar voice of Simon, one of the few nurses who'd been with her since the beginning. He bent over and picked up the needle he'd dropped, threw it away, and picked up another off a near by tray. In no time, he had Airmen Well's IV inserted.

A loud crash made her spin. She saw three nurses trying to hold a thrashing patient.

"Colonel!" A young nurse shouted. "Please calm down."

Janet recognized her as the newest member of her staff, Kaylee Stuart. She'd only been stationed at Cheyenne Mountain for a few weeks.

"Sir, please!" She begged. "You've been hurt pretty bad. We need to treat your wound. We're not trying to hurt you."

Janet rushed over intent on helping them with the inured man. She gasped in shock when she realized the injured colonel was Jack O'Neill. He had a massive burn on his abdomen and lower chest. Kaylee had her hands on either side of the colonel's face while the other two nurses had his arms and legs.

"Kaylee, move. Let me talk to him."

The nurse didn't move, she just kept talking to the colonel. Janet put her hand on Kaylee's shoulder, but the other woman didn't even flinch. She gave no indication that she had even heard Janet.

"What the hell is going on?" she practically yelled. No one even glanced at her. Janet turned and looked around the infirmary. She stopped short when a body on a nearby gurney caught her eye.

She stared in disbelief. The body was hers. "I'm dead," she said. Much as the thought frightened her, she knew there was no other possible explanation. "I died." That was why no one could see or hear her.

"Arrrhh!" The colonel's pained cry pulled her from her thoughts and she turned her attention back to him.

Kayle had let go of O'Neill's head and was trying to inject something most likely a sedative into his arm. He jerked suddenly and the young nurse cursed as the needle broke in the colonel's arm. Janet took the opportunity to come along side the still thrashing man. She put her hands on either side of his face and began to speak in a low soothing tone, just like she had so many times before.

"Sir, colonel, listen to me. You're okay. You're in the infirmary. You have to calm down and let us help you." The colonel's eyes opened and he stared into Janet's eyes. "Please, sir, you have to relax. You've taken a staff blast to the abdomen. You've been burned and may have internal injuries." He continued to stare at her, his erratic movements slowed. "That's right. Just relax. Let us help you, please," she begged. Finally, his eyes closed and the colonel went limp. Janet sighed in relief and released his head.

"Jeff, start cleaning the wound." Janet barked. "Chrissy . . .." She stopped when she realized no one was responding. She was about to yell at them when she remembered, "Oh yeah. I'm dead. They can't hear me. Or see me."

"Doc." The semi-conscious man's call came out as more of a groan.

She turned back to her injured friend.

"She isn't here, sir." Kaylee said sadly as she set up the IV.

She couldn't guide or help them, but she could comfort the colonel. For reasons she couldn't fathom, he seemed to be able to see, hear, and feel her. She suspected it was because he was so close to death himself (or because he'd had so many brushes with death in the past). She'd seen the wound. Even with the new vest, it was life threatening. Without it, he would have died instantly.

Janet spoke to O'Neill again as her team battled to save his life. Finally, some time later, he was stabilized with a steady flow of antibiotics, painkillers, and sedatives flowing through the IV and into his veins. His wounds cleansed and dressed, he was sleeping peacefully.

Several hours later, Janet watched as his team was finally allowed in to see him. Her own body had been moved to the morgue hours earlier. They made their way to O'Neill's bed and took up their customary positions. Daniel sat to his left, a book or manuscript of some sort in his hands. Sam sat to his right, her laptop propped on her lap. Teal'c stood at the foot of the bed, keeping a silent vigil over the man he had so quickly accepted as a brother.

Janet, feeling too much like a voyeur, made her way to her office. She slid down into her chair and tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts and confusion. She wasn't sure how long she sat there before she felt that familiar need to check on her patients. Only they're not your patients anymore, Janet. Are they? She pushed the unwanted thought aside as she made her way back through the infirmary.

All of the patients seemed to be sleeping soundly. She took a moment to check each ones chart before making her way back to the most frequent visitor to her infirmary.

Sam and Daniel were sound asleep in their chairs. Tears stained each their cheeks. Janet wanted so badly to say something to comfort them. Teal'c was still awake, still staring intently on his sleeping friend. There was a great sadness in eyes, despite his stoic stance.

"Doc." The colonel muttered as he tossed in his sleep. "Gotta help . . ."

Realization hit her hard and she stumbled a few steps back. Oh God, he was coming to cover me. That's how he got hurt. He was trying to get to me.

The colonel started to toss more violently. Teal'c moved quickly and gently restrained his friend. Janet moved to the other side of the bed and touched his fevered cheek. "It's okay, sir. I'm here. I'm here." Slowly, he settled down again and Teal'c moved back to his previous position. Janet remained by his side, watching him sleep.

"It's time to move on, Doctor Fraiser."

Janet turned to look at the face belonging to the unfamiliar voice, and had to look down to see it. She didn't need to have ever met him or seen a picture to know who he was. She could see the remarkable resemblance to the man she knew in the face of the boy before her.

Not believing her own eyes, she said, "Charlie? Charlie O'Neill?"

"Yes."

"How . . . how do you know my name? We've never met." Janet stammered.

"Not in person, no. But I've been watching him," he pointed to his injured father, sleeping in an infirmary bed. "I've been watching you too. Thanks for taking such good care of him, by the way."

Her response was automatic. "You're welcome." She looked back to the man they were speaking of.

"Why are you here?"

"To help you move on," came the patient reply.

"If I really am dead, then why am I still here?"

"Because you need to let go." At Janet's confused look, Charlie elaborated. "You need to let go of this life. It isn't yours anymore, Doctor Frasier. It's time to move on."

Janet hesitated watching as her team made theirs rounds, checking IV's and adjusting them where necessary.

"They are good people a good team. Thanks to you. They'll take care of the others."

Janet swelled with pride as she thought back. Her team had work together efficiently, through tear filled eyes, barely saying anything as they helped the injured SG team members.

Janet made her rounds in the infirmary, stopping by each bed to lay her hand briefly on the face of each patient; Wells, Sergeant Davis, Lieutenant Grieves, so many had been hurt. Finally, she reached the last bed. She gently smoothed back Colonel O'Neill's hair. She let her hand rest there. After a few minutes, Charlie came up beside her.

"He's going to be fine, Doctor. Thanks to you and your people."

"Me? I didn't do anything this time. All I did was talk to him." She looked down at the boy next to her.

Charlie just smiled up at her. "You were there when he needed you. Just like you have been since you meet him."

She returned his smile. He was right. She had trained her people well. As much as she hated to leave any of them, it was time to move on. She took hold of his outstretched hand with her left hand, her right still on her friend's forehead. She bent over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "Take care of your self, sir. And them." She smiled as she gave one last look at the three other members of SG-1 standing watch over their fallen commander and friend.

Finally, she looked back to Charlie. "I'm ready."

_THE END_


End file.
